


The Learning Curve

by ATokenATrifle



Series: Khan Writing Prompts Collection [3]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Star Trek: Into Darkness - Fandom
Genre: Desk Sex, Dominance, F/M, Filth, Hair Pulling, Haircuts, I think there's a plot in here somewhere, John Harrison is having none of your shit, Smut, Submission, because they love hair pulling, captain's chair, reassurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:59:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATokenATrifle/pseuds/ATokenATrifle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, my MC now has a name. Adira, meet the world... world, meet Adira. She goes through a bit of a growth spurt this chapter, before we knuckle down to the some *cough* good times next chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Cut

All this focus the past few weeks about weakness has lead you to think that perhaps you have been selected wrongly for your position, and especially given the failures you experienced that afternoon with Commander Harrison in the weapons room. Regardless of his sentiment about family, you need him to answer your question before you feel sated for the night.

You knock on the door to his quarters and enter slowly. The room is dark but for the blue glow of a screen on his face. He sits in front of his computer, still dressed in his grey office uniform; he’s just returned from a meeting.

“Come in,” he doesn’t look up from the screen.

You approach and spew forth the words before you can think to stop yourself, “Do you think I’m weak?”

“No I do not,”

“But you keep talking about my weaknesses,”

“Weaknesses are not the same as being weak,” he sits back in his chair and watches you, hands clasped in front of him, “How could I possibly think you to be weak? I have watched you from the minute you arrived here. You volunteered yourself to my team, you did that. You wanted to be here. A woman. You have excelled and beaten your peers, most of which are male, and you stand in front of me today as my Lieutenant Commander and ask if I think you are weak? You would not be here if I thought that in the slightest,” now _that_ is a compliment if ever you’ve heard one and, from a man so brilliant, you find it flattering.

“But, my weaknesses,” you insist on knowing why he points them out.

“Are minor and can be corrected, with adequate training which, if I’m not mistaken, is what we are currently undertaking,”

“Of course,” you nod.

“Anything else?” he stops, “Are you done questioning my judgement?”

“Sorry?”

“You seem to be saying to me that my choosing you was an error in judgement, that I seem to have made a mistake, is that what you’re implying?”

“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying. Thank you,”

“Thank you,” his focus moves back to the screen in front of him, “Get some sleep. Tomorrow you’re learning about ship manoeuvring. Six A.M in the bridge simulator,”

“Good night, John,” you nod.

“Good night, Adira,”

Back in your quarters, you close the door quietly. _Minor and can be corrected_ , his words ring in your ears as you ready for a shower and the rest of your nightly routine that follows. The first and most obvious weakness that he points out continually is your hair. _Well_ , you think to yourself, _I guess that one can be easily sorted_. Your shower is hot, boiling hot, and you sit on the floor of the cubicle, exhausted and inspecting the newly formed bruises on your body. You wash your hair, long for the last time, and listen to the suds and water gurgle down the drain.

You’re sore, tired and exhausted, which makes it easier for tears to pool in your eyes. Nobody around to see or hear you, you let them wash away as well, sobbing as you scrub your body down. You cry out of pure exhaustion; you knew this job was going to be hard but didn’t quite realise how hard it would be and, added to that the fact that you were also sleeping with Harrison, and it meant you didn’t quite get a moment to yourself very often anymore. However, you resolve to not show him and get about doing what you have to do, buoyed by his vote of confidence only moments earlier.

 Towel wrapped around you, you smear your hands across the mirror in front of you giving you an easier view of what you’re about to do. You’ve washed and dried your hair before tying it in a plait kept in place by a band near the root and one at the tip. Given your lack of skill as a hairdresser, you’re surprised you manage to hack your plait off in one foul swoop.

You look at it there in your hands, limp and disconnected from you now, and you feel relief; one less thing for him to single out as a weakness. It’s a rough cut so you continue to hack with the scissors until you have a short, cropped, pixie cut. Actually, it doesn’t look so bad. Your dark ginger hair suits this sort of style.

The mess is swept up from the floor, your bathroom clean and returned to its regulation state, and you drop the locks of your hair into the bin, making sure to keep the plait. Who knows, you may even raise a smile out of Commander Harrison, those rare and delightful moments when he relaxes into a smile, and you chuckle at the thought. In fact, the last time you remember him laughing, you had your knee in his back and were punching him in the head and face as he balled himself up on the floor of the training hall.

You shower again, quickly, to remove any stray hairs that might prove ticklish the next day before climbing into bed. This bed is what you look forward to every single day; the running, the fighting, the falling, the kicking, the study, and then your bed. Your plait rests on the bedside table in front of the alarm clock; the blue light from the numbers casting a bright glow onto it.

The light of the corridor emanates in the gap under the door and you see a pair of feet stop at your doorway. You grab your plait and pull it into the bed with you, hitching the covers up high over your head. The door opens, and you know it’s him, but you’re feigning sleep. He asks after you only once before deciding to leave you be for the night, returning to his quarters.

It will grow back, you tell yourself, but for now you have a point to prove.


	2. The Captain's Chair

You beat him to the bridge simulator the next morning, and take your place in the Captain’s chair to wait for him. You’re wearing regulation black clothing and boots, and you have your hooded jumper on, hood pulled up over your newly shortened hair. Looking at it in the mirror this morning you were actually quite pleased with how it looked.

You sit with the lights out and wait for Commander Harrison to arrive, five minutes early as is his modus operandi. He’ll be early to his own funeral, you muse to yourself as you listen to him waiting outside the room.

“She’s supposed to be here by now,” the timbre of his voice carrying through the heavy door and into the room.

Sick of waiting for you, the door slides open and he enters the darkened room. He doesn’t switch lights on as he goes, but walks into the darkened room with his heavy footsteps. He’s wearing the same uniform as you, but with his long, black, hooded jacket today. He looks good; he always looks good.

Machines whir around you both as he starts to ready the simulator; control screens and work stations come to life. Colours, symbols, holograms, and you take it all in; you’re finally on the deck of a Starship. Sure, it’s a simulator and you’re only learning how to control one but for the time being you’ll take it.

Quite the voyeur, you enjoy watching him operate. In fact, it would be safe to say you love it, and you sit quietly and watch his eyes flicker around to each screen as they start up individually. Even before you joined the crew his brain fascinated you. The method and the speed at which he processes information, thoughts and ideas is incredible, and he’s nothing like you’ve ever seen before.

You’re discovered the moment you snort at his program choice. Figuring you’re late, he sets a simulator to destroy Starfleet Archives.

“I thought you’d already done that?” you smile from your spot on the seat.

He turns slowly, eyes glowing an opaque blue, “I do believe I have,”

A quick press of some buttons and the room is illuminated by light; not harsh light, but more the type of light you would find on in a movie theatre back on earth, very subtle. Harrison looks at you strangely and walks around to where you sit on the Captain’s chair. His face is curious and marked with questions he hasn’t yet asked.

“I came to your room last night,” he’s standing in front of you now, “Were you asleep?”

“No,” he can see straight through you, so there’s no use lying to him.

“But you didn’t answer? I wanted you to come to me,”

“I was exhausted, bruised, bloodied, battered, take your pick,” your knees are hitched up into your chin, legs crossed, and you’re chewing on your fingers.

“Did you get all of your course work completed?”

“Of course,” you answer with a nod.

“I see things in you. Great things,” he begins, “You have the potential to be better than me. That is why I push you so, do you understand?”

“Yes I do,” you nod, “Just have to iron out the kinks,”

“The kinks?”

“Remove the weaknesses,” you affirm.

“Correct,” his mouth twitches into a smile, “We can do great things, you and I,”

“I’m sure we can,”

Your eyes follow as his hand reaches out to your hood, pushing it off your head. He’s not entirely impressed with the notion that you’ve cut almost your entire head of hair off. He runs his fingers across the crown of your head, before closing his fingers in a tight grip. Still with such a short length, he’s managed a decent handful of hair.

“Only ever take an action when it will truly remove the weakness,” his eyebrows are raised and lips pursed shut, “Hmm?”

You jump up to stand on the chair, standing slightly taller than Harrison. You lull him into a false sense of security by running a finger down his cheek. His eyes follow the action momentarily before they come back to rest on you. Your hand splayed across the back of his head you then take a fistful of his hair and tug at it a little more than gently.

“That maybe be, sir, and I may not have removed it completely, but at least we’re both on an even pitch now, are we not?”

“Is this what you were doing last night?”

“Among other things,” you answer, still pulling tightly on his hair, “I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of doing it yourself,”

“So last night was all about denying me pleasure, was it?”

“You could say that,” your grip loosens on his hair as he pulls you off the chair and drops you on the ground.

“Now, if you can pass the next three hours without destroying something then we’ll have to make up for last night,”

You laugh for a second before snapping suddenly. You push him back into the Captain’s Chair and straddle him.

“I don’t think so,” you disagree, “I vote we discuss it now and, seeing as I’m better than you, my vote counts more,”

“Better than me are you?”

“I am,” you look at him quite matter-of-factly.

You push your hips down onto his crotch and get the reaction you’re looking for; his cock is straining on the fabric of his pants. You smile at this knowledge while you reach back to your feet and unbuckle your boots.

“Can’t be destroying another pair of shoes, Commander,” your eyes meet his briefly as you swing around to the next boot.

“Did you send the bill for the new pair to my office?”

“I did indeed,” you push both your boots off and sit looking at him for a moment, “I think that I will work bare footed today,”

You stand to walk away from him, his eyes dark and intense, and just watching you move away. You unzip your hooded jumper and leave it piled on top of your boots. He hates being teased, you know this all too well, and watch his breathing change as you walk away and take a seat at one of the control panels.

“Now,” you tilt your head to look at him, lips parted, frown across his forehead, “Shall we begin?”

That’s it; he’s snapped. He closes the gap between you in an instant, speed and agility, grabs your arm and throws you on your back onto the work station you were sitting at, buttons pressing and machines pinging around you.

“I hate these pants sometimes,” you mutter as you try desperately to free him of his confines, your pants having already made a hasty retreat to the floor.

You get no response as he takes hold of your hips, pulling you in towards him, and he rubs his cock along the length of your centre. You feel him moving along you, but not in you, and you laugh at the tease.

“Please,” you beg him, “Please just fuck me,”

“I’m sorry, what?” he can act when he wants to, and he continues to tease you.

“Please,”

He pushes his way into you, slowly, almost painfully, as if he has all the time in the world and you feel every last piece of him fit you like a jigsaw. A short, sharp burst and you arch your back into him, pushing yourself up on the palms of your hands. From where you are now you have a fantastic view of proceedings and you watch as he fucks you mercilessly atop the work station.

Lights are still flickering, machines still pinging, and you’re sure there’s some sort of light show going on behind you but you couldn’t care less. Holding yourself up with one arm you reach out and pull on his hair and pull yourself in closer to him. His hands rest on your backside and he uses them as a vice to try and push himself further and further into you. You lay back onto the work station and hitch your heels up on the edge, you’re about to come and any further touch on your skin will surely set fire to you.

His fingers trace their way across your stomach and up under your top, grabbing and kneading your breasts with reckless abandon. You groan and shutter as your toes curl and back arches, throwing you off the edge and into abyss. Harrison follows you shortly afterward, gripping the edges of work station behind your head and he drives into you one last time. Still connected, he stands and looks around the room.

“Well,” he puffed, “Looks like we’ve destroyed Starfleet Archives... again,”

Still laying splayed out across the control panel you tilt your head back to look around and laugh with him, “Ooops,”

“Naughty girl,” with a rough smack, he leaves your arse stinging but you can’t help but laugh with him.

John Harrison. Laughing? Again? Who would have thought?


	3. The Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [This is it for the time being... if you have any Khan writing prompts you'd like to see, drop me a line, leave a comment, you know what to do!]

He leaves you alone that night, bogged until command and user manuals so high you’re sure you’re never going to learn to steer a ship out of the dock, let alone through an asteroid belt. Making sure you’re okay, he checks on you one last time before making final inspections of his crew for the night. It was rare to get such open affection from him, but you took it when it was offered and promised to visit his quarters once you were done.

You’re alone with your work and your thoughts and pay no heed to the commotions outside. That is, until, you feel your room shake the likes of which you haven’t felt since the last earthquake you experienced during your time at Starfleet. A quick inspection of the room reveals a crack in the farthest corner of your roof, plaster drifting to the floor like cooking flour.

Another rumble and the crack widens slightly. Without a second thought you dress yourself in your uniform again and prepare to leave your room. The only problem is the door has been locked from the outside.

“Commander Harrison,” you demand through your communication device, “Why is my room locked?”

“We’re under attack. You are to remain in your room until I collect you,”

“Let me out,” you’re tugging on the door handle to no avail.

“Stay in your room and hide,”

“Not much good hiding if there’s a gaping hole in my roof,” you argue.

“Find somewhere in there and hide. I will be back for you shortly,”

You do as you’re ordered and crawl in under your bed, a clichéd spot to hide if ever there was one, but now is not the time to argue. The door rattles occasionally and commotion continues outside. There’s no more rumbling in the buildings but you can hear weapons being used, sometimes not far from your door. Your heart is racing and the only thing louder than the sound of its beating in your ears is the sound of your breathing as you struggle to comprehend what is going on while you wait. The wait feels like forever but eventually your door slides open.

Harrison is there in his regulation uniform and long black coat. He’s injured, but only slightly, a cut to his upper cheek; you’ve done far worse damage.

“Lieutenant Commander,” he demands.

You crawl out from under your bed and he hands you two phasers, “Two?”

“Yes, two. How much did you get to study ship controls?”

“A little bit,”

“Good, let’s go,” he’s out the door in the blink of an eye, and before you can even respond.

You follow him out and you run into the main compound, following behind him, both on the lookout for intruders. The doors are locked quickly behind you and he assures you that everyone is dead, an attack from Starfleet, but he’s certain there are more coming.

You enter the loading dock and run across a gantry, heaving feet clanging on metal and it strikes you as odd that no one else is with you. You aren’t the only one in training, where’s the rest of your team? Right now you feel like you’re running on adrenalin; you’ve had a massive day and this has just put a hole in everyone’s plans for rest.

“Commander, where is your crew?”

“Our crew,” he corrects you, “Are currently in a state of cryogenic freeze,”

“What?” you stop still on the spot and look at him.

“The quickest and easiest way for me to protect my crew is to put them into a state of cryogenic freeze. They are all in torpedo tubes, 72 of which are sitting in the cargo bay,”

The cargo bay is checked and secure before you’re running up along another gantry and into the bridge. What you’re worked out in the past few moments is that it’s the two of you piloting the ship, no one else. You’re not sure how or just if that’s going to work, but you have no choice. The steep learning curve you’ve been on the past few months has just gotten even steeper.

Harrison takes the Captain’s Chair while you initiate the start sequence. Your heart is pounding through your chest and you hardly hear the orders he’s shouting at you from his place seated just behind you.

Had you learnt enough to know what you were doing? Hardly. Were you sure you could even get this ship out of the dock? Not likely. Thankfully Harrison is aware of this and takes main command as the ship lurches forward and moves out of the dock and into the timeless worlds of space.

“Destination, Captain?” you ask from your chair.

“Qo’noS, Commander,” he replies.

You program in coordinates and wait; you’re flying by the seat of your pants and hope for the best.


End file.
